


Don't let go (I've wanted this far too long)

by Elisexyz



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: (individual warnings in the chapters), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Literal Sleeping Together, Post-Canon, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-05-29 13:03:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15073736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/pseuds/Elisexyz
Summary: 1.“You know, this should teach you to stop running after me without a plan.”2.“Oh, god, I could kiss you right now.”(Flynn&Wyatt)3.“Do you ever sleep?”4.“Well,” she says, lightly. “We are lucky he bought it. I suck at acting, I was always the tree at recitals.”5.“I swear, if you die on me—” (...) “What, you’ll kill me?”(Flynn&Wyatt)Collection of unrelated (mostly) Garcy themed Tumblr ficlets.





	1. “Looks like we’ll be stuck here for a while.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [82\. "Looks like we’ll be stuck here for a while." + Garcy](http://heytheredeann.tumblr.com/post/175312736514/82-for-garcy). Season 1 setting.

“Well. Looks like we’ll be stuck here for a while,” Flynn comments, dropping onto the cot with his arms supporting his head. Lucy is half convinced that he’s purposefully trying to annoy her by showing just how comfortable he is with this whole thing.

“Looks like,” she echoes, keeping her tone neutral. She’s determined not to give him the satisfaction of admitting how uneasy it makes her feel, being held into a cell with _him_ of all people, unsure of whether Wyatt and Rufus will even figure out where she ran off to.

“You know, this should teach you to stop running after me without a plan,” he comments, casually.

Lucy is standing with her back against the wall, her left fingers wrapped up around the bars. “I had a plan,” she replies, and it admittedly comes out very defensive. Well, she _did_ have a plan. Not a very _specific_ plan, but a plan nonetheless. Something along the lines of: follow Flynn wherever he’s going, stop him from killing people, walk away. “It also worked,” she adds. Except for the ‘walk away’ part.

Flynn scoffs. “Yes, I’m sure that being imprisoned was your ultimate goal.”

“Stopping you from killing innocents was,” she replies. She managed to interfere before he could go much damage, but they still got caught red-handed, having an heated discussion over a dead body – the body of someone who wasn’t _supposed_ to die, whose children will never be born; she can’t help wondering how many Amys that one death caused.

Flynn tenses up. “They were all very much _not_ innocent, I assure you,” he says, a bit more harshly than usual.

“They were also supposed to live,” she lectures mercilessly, because there is no justification for playing judge, jury and executioner when history has already been written.

“Yeah, well, sometimes people who are supposed to live _die_ ,” he snaps, sitting up in a sharp movement that makes her tense a bit. He must notice, because he seems to stop on his tracks for a second, forcing himself to look less threatening.

“They do if you kill them,” she comments, quietly, because she’s not backing down from this.

Flynn sighs. “Yes,” he agrees, slowly. “And one day you’ll see why sometimes that’s just necessary.”

“I doubt it,” she says, turning her eyes away from him to observe the entrance – half hoping to see Wyatt and Rufus appear – and pushing away invasive thoughts of a journal mysteriously written in what looks like her handwriting, of _destiny_ and _one day you’re going to help me_.

Flynn’s men are the ones who come for them, in the end, because apparently this isn’t her lucky day.

She tries to make herself invisible by pressing her back against the wall and staying still as the cell is opened and Flynn exchanges a few words with the two armed men who came for him, their voices low enough that she can’t make out what they are saying.

She doesn’t think that she can make a run for it and get out of the station without being captured either by them or the police.

Flynn turns towards her, raising his eyebrows questioningly.

“You’re not coming?” he asks, apparently expecting her to move to follow them.

“What?” she replies. “If you want to kidnap me, I won’t make it that easy.” There isn’t much that she _can_ do, but prison and a due process are probably better than giving herself up to their enemy. Theoretically, at least. If Wyatt and Rufus find her.

Flynn snorts and dismisses her words with a brief gesture of the hand. “That’d be way too much trouble, trust me. We’ll go our separate ways as soon as we are out of here.” He pauses. “Unless you want to be left to find your own way out, I’m sure you’ll make it, sooner or later.”

The funniest thing is that he sounds _honest_. Like he really believes that she could somehow get out of there unnoticed in spite of being neither trained nor armed, and he’s offering to let her tag along only out of _courtesy_ , to make things easier and prevent her from wasting time.

She doesn’t really share his apparent trust in her abilities, so she finds herself nodding.

Running away from Flynn will probably be easier than outrunning an entire police station, even if he actually tried to kidnap her – and she feels like it’s also less likely to end with her getting shot in the back, to be honest.

 


	2. “I could kiss you right now!” (Flynn&Wyatt)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [13\. “I could kiss you right now!” + Flogan (BROTP)](http://heytheredeann.tumblr.com/post/175549372379/i-was-wondering-if-you-could-do-i-could-kiss-you). Set in a post-Chinatown canon divergence, with Rufus alive and baby Logan in the bunker. I guess it's fluff, sort of. As much as these two would allow me.

“Come _on_ ,” he complains. Or whines. Probably ‘whines’ is more accurate. “You’re fed, you’re clean, what’s the _matter_ —”

Sarah’s cries don’t cease, if anything her face looks as red as ever. He is trained and he can go on for a while without much sleep, but _god_ it seems like he hasn’t had a full night of rest in— _ever_. He’s aching everywhere, his eyes are _burning_ , and he strongly suspects that he’s ten minutes away from passing out, no matter how loudly his kid cries.

Not for the first time, he feels a wave of irritation at Agent Christopher for keeping Jessica detained, even though she turned against Rittenhouse and let them arrest her willingly. He misses her, he can tell that she aches at the mere _thought_ of not being there for their baby, and he’s not _supposed_ to do this alone.

He knows that it’s reasonable to question her, make sure that she’s really on their side, but hell, can’t they speed the damn thing up?

“Please, just _sleep_ ,” he mumbles, and it’s a statement to how damn tired he is that he doesn’t notice Flynn’s arrival until he turns around and lays eyes on him.

“What the—” he yelps, taking a step backwards and almost losing his balance as a result. Sarah is still crying.

“Didn’t mean to startle you,” Flynn says, casually, raising his hands up before going for a glass of water.

Wyatt sincerely hopes that he won’t start complaining about how the noise woke him up, because Wyatt is on edge enough to lay Sarah on the table and punch him in the face. Not that he’d have any chance whatsoever of winning that fight, exhausted as he is, but it’s the thought that counts. And the satisfaction.

Fortunately, Flynn just drinks his glass of water, spares them another glance and turns his back to head back to his room. Sarah gives a sharp cry that makes Wyatt’s hair jump up, and at this point he’s just praying for a miracle.

Flynn stops on his tracks after a couple of steps. He just stands there for a bunch of seconds, long enough for Wyatt to be about to ask what’s the holdup, then he just turns back towards them, a resigned expression on his face.

“Give her to me,” he says, as if he was complying to somebody else’s request.

Wyatt’s hold automatically tightens a bit – which Sarah doesn’t seem to appreciate at all – as he frowns. “What?” he asks. Yeah, no, not gonna happen.

Flynn rolls his eyes. “You are in more danger of dropping her than I am,” he points out. “I doubt that that swaying you are doing there is intentional.”

Alright, he has a point: he _is_ barely able to stand.

But that doesn’t mean that he’ll give his baby to Flynn. I mean, he _has_ been with them for months now, and he hasn’t been anything but useful, but— Wyatt isn’t really comfortable dropping Sarah off with _anyone_ , leaving for missions is torture, and we are talking about _Flynn_ here—

But god, he’s tired. And it’s not like he’s going anywhere, right? He’s going to be watching everything, what’s the harm in letting his arms rest a bit, sitting down, relaxing for a second? The guy had a kid of his own, he’s not gonna drop her or anything, right?

“Okay,” he finally says. Flynn appears a bit surprised by the fact that he actually gave in, but it lasts only for a couple of seconds. Wyatt carefully passes Sarah over to him, he checks that he seems to know what he’s doing – and he does, good –, then he just drops on the first chair he can get his hands on, allowing himself to go limp.

Flynn gives him an amused look before fixing the baby so that she’s secured between his arms and then he— starts humming some tune that Wyatt doesn’t really care to recognize. Wyatt’s headache doesn’t appreciate the fact that more sound gets added to the cries, but hell, at least he’s sitting and his arms are _free_.

He takes a deep breath, throwing back his head and fixing his eyes on the ceiling. At some point he must have spaced out, because one moment Sarah is crying and his head is pounding, the other the cries are just— _gone_.

He jumps, straightening his posture on the chair, eyes wide and fixed on Flynn, who’s rocking the blissfully _asleep_ baby.

“How—how the _hell_ did you manage that?” Wyatt whispers, one second away from laughing like a maniac.

Flynn shrugs slightly. “Magic.”

“Oh, god, I could kiss you right now,” Wyatt breaths out, his head singing in relief at the blissful _silence_.

Flynn arches his eyebrows, looking downright amused. “I’m flattered, but I don’t mess around with married men.”

“I— you— _shut up_ , you know what I meant,” Wyatt protests. But really, he’s not about to actually get angry, he’s too relieved.

He sighs, bracing himself before getting up. A second on his feet, and he’s already missing the chair. He approaches Flynn, stretching out his arms to invite him to give Sarah back, but he shakes his head.

“Get some sleep, will you?” Flynn says instead.

Wyatt frowns. The idea is temping, but— he doesn’t leave Sarah alone if he can help it.

“You can go on the couch if it makes you feel better about it, and I’ll sit where you can see me, but giving you the baby back in the state you are in would be child endangerment,” Flynn adds, which is probably a bit offensive, but also— annoyingly on point. And hell, has he mentioned that he’s exhausted? Because he’s not sure he’d be considering this if he weren’t.

It’d probably be more comfortable to go back to his room, so that he can sleep in his bed, but that would also mean asking Flynn to sit next to him, and— that’s not a mental image that he particularly likes, he already has a wife, thank you very much.

“Fine,” he says, without hiding that he’s not really that fond of the idea. “Just this once,” he adds quickly.

“Sure,” Flynn replies, dismissively, leading the way without as much as another glance.

That damn couch is very uncomfortable, but he does have a nice view of Sarah sleeping peacefully – _no cries;_ it still feels like a damn miracle – and he’s too tired for his body to be picky.

He thinks that he ends up muttering a thank you to Flynn at some point, then he falls asleep in a matter of minutes.


	3. "Teach me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [80\. “Teach me?” + Garcy](http://heytheredeann.tumblr.com/post/175549564004/teach-me-for-garcy-please). Zombie Apocalypse AU, because I was bound to do it sooner or later.

“Do you ever sleep?” Lucy asks, her eyes still half closed as she sits up, trying to ignore the way her neck is aching – just to remind her that you are _not_ actually supposed to sleep in the backseat of a car.

Garcia is sitting in the passenger seat, because they decided that he’d be more comfortable if he reclined that as much as possible instead of trying to fit in the backseat. _Lucy_ barely managed to find a comfortable position there, and she’s more than an head shorter than him. He was silently shifting his gun in between his hands, looking lost in thought, when Lucy caught his attention.

“Sometimes,” he says, flashing a grin in her direction. “I’m used to weird hours.”

Lucy nods. They have been traveling together for a couple of days now, and although he doesn’t seem to be particularly prone to sharing information about his past – or talking in general, actually – she has managed to find out that he has a past in the military, experience working with the NSA, and probably many more credentials that make him one of the top five people you’d want to be stuck with during the apocalypse. Good for her.

He’s also a good listener, and Lucy enjoys sharing anecdotes: it makes her feel like her past is not so out of reach, like this is just a really bad vacation and things like colleges and lectures are not gone forever.

“Maybe we should find a more comfortable place to sleep?” she suggests. An house would be nice. Breaking into somebody else’s place seems— _uncivil_ ,  but it’s not like there are many people left around to care, right?

It’s a little frightening, how her mind has started to adapt to a lawless world.

“I’d prefer to stay as far away from the city as we can,” he replies, turning towards her, because apparently he’s one of those people who like to make sure that you know that they are giving you their full attention during a conversation. “And just go back for supplies.”

He’s probably the expert on safety measures, considering his background and that they literally met when she was about to be eaten alive, but she can’t help thinking that driving around, sleeping in a car and raiding shops when needed is not much of a long-term solution. Gas is also pretty hard to find.

She decides not to argue her case right now, because she’s tired and at the moment she’s fine driving around anyway, and her eyes drift on his gun instead.

“Can you teach me?” she asks, suddenly.

It takes him a few seconds to piece together what she’s asking. “You want to learn how to shoot?” he echoes, the slightest note of scepticism in his voice.

Lucy feels a pang of insecurity at that: she _knows_ she doesn’t look the part, damsel in distress probably seems more fitting, but she doesn’t enjoy the idea of just following him around with no skills whatsoever to defend herself with. And hell, she’s not stupid, it’s something that _can_ be taught.

“I mean, why not?” she replies, defensively.

“Because it’s not particularly useful,” he points out, as if it was obvious.

“ _That’s_ your problem with my request?” She can’t help chuckling a bit, relieved. The gun is not _useful_ enough.

“Well, _yes_ ,” he stresses. “Gunshots are loud, they are a last resort. You’d benefit more from some self-defence training. Or a couple of lessons on how to handle knives.”

“Why not all of those?” Lucy shrugs. He raises his eyebrows, amused. “I mean, we have a lot of time on our hands,” she adds. “That could help with the boredom?”

Something that isn’t too broadcasted in zombie apocalypse movies is that life is _boring_. More so when you are on your own and have no one to talk to, but even with a companion in all this, days are long, and when you are in a quiet place, sure enough that no one is going to try and eat you in the next few seconds, there isn’t much left to do.

It reminds Lucy of back when she and Amy would have to find creative ways to spend the afternoon while they were visiting relatives or their mother’s friends, but Amy is not someone that she particularly wants to dwell on these days.

Actually, no one is. It’s too easy to remember an old crush, or some particularly brilliant student, and wonder what’s happened to them, if they’ve survived this. What makes Amy worse is that she knows perfectly well the answer to that question.

“You’re right,” Garcia comments, seemingly pleased by her spirit of adventure. “Get some rest, we can get started tomorrow.”

She nods, moving to fix up both of their jackets under her head in an attempt to make the door into a comfortable pillow and trying to make her legs fit properly into the seat even when she’s not consciously keeping them up.

Before closing her eyes, she notices that he’s still playing with the gun and making no move to go to sleep himself.

“Will you get some sleep too?” she asks, after a few seconds of hesitation. He’s still little more than a stranger, and you never know when you might piss someone off with your prying.

When he glances at her, though, he doesn’t seem annoyed. He gives her a small smile and a nod instead. “In a few minutes,” he assures. “Goodnight.”

She decides to believe him, even if a part of her thinks she really shouldn’t. “Goodnight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are interested, [there's more of this verse](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15296943).


	4. "What do you mean? It’s exciting!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [63\. “What do you mean? It’s exciting!” + Garcy](http://heytheredeann.tumblr.com/post/175907290524/free-spaceyour-choice-prompt-whatever-number-you). S1 AU, Lucy is working with Flynn.

When Flynn grabs her from behind out of the blue, scooping her up as if she weighted nothing and pulling her in front of him, she lets out a cry of surprise, and it takes a few more seconds to realize that he has an arm around her neck and a gun to her head.

Then she notices Wyatt standing in front of them, gun raised, and it clicks.

Damn guy has been chasing them around since this whole thing started, trying to kill Flynn to get him out of the way of Rittenhouse, but they’ve also noticed that he and his team seem weirdly compassionate for agents of an evil organization, which led them to theorize that they may not know the big picture. Or maybe they are just weird like that.

Still, considering that Lucy hasn’t had a face to face with any of them yet, Flynn is probably trying to play Wyatt and make him believe that she’s an innocent woman about to get shot.

It’d probably help if Lucy could muster at least a little bit of authentic fear, but, gun to her head or not, she doesn’t feel like she’s in danger. Good god, she _sucks_ at acting.

“Drop it, or she dies,” Flynn orders, drily.

Lucy tries to widen her eyes to convey fear, open her mouth a little and put on a bit of a struggle. She could probably beg for help or mercy, but she gets the feeling that it would only draw attention to her poor acting skills.

Fortunately, Wyatt seems to be too concentrated on the poor-innocent-woman-in-danger part of the situation to pay too much attention to her face. He tightens his grip on the gun, and he looks like he’s two seconds away from growling like an animal.

“I said drop it,” Flynn repeats, pressing the gun harder with a jerk that’s more theatrics than anything else. The hold on her neck is tight enough to look authentic, but she can still breathe without any problem, it’s just a bit uncomfortable.

“Don’t worry, ma’am, everything will be fine,” Wyatt says, sending her a reassuring smile and slowly dropping his weapon to the ground. Lucy might feel a bit sorry for him, if he hadn’t spent the last week trying to kill her partner.

“Kick it,” Flynn adds.

Wyatt complies. If looks could kill, Flynn would probably be on the ground right now.

He keeps using her as a human shield, walking backwards as Wyatt stares helplessly. He doesn’t let her go until they are positive that they are not being watched anymore.

As soon as he lets her go, Flynn moves two steps back, putting away his gun and not meeting her eyes. Lucy can feel a tension between them that rarely is there: they tend to click effortlessly, awkward silences are a rarity.

“Well,” she says, lightly. “We are lucky he bought it. I suck at acting, I was always the tree at recitals.”

A comment like that would usually get at least a smile out of him. Instead, he keeps scanning around for threats, obviously avoiding acknowledging her.

Okay, then.

“Flynn,” she calls, as gently as possible. She takes a couple of steps towards him, and he finally turns around, backing away slightly.

“Sorry about that,” he finally says, voice barely audible and eyes avoiding hers.

“About my acting skills?” she jokes.

He raises his eyes on her, looking unfazed by yet another attempt at lightening the mood. “No,” he simply says.

Alright, alright. “Come on, it was exciting,” she tries. At his sceptical look, she adds: “And it was a good strategy! It worked.”

“That’s not the point.”

“It’s not like you _really_ threatened me.”

“Technically, I did,” he protests.

Lucy rolls her eyes. “I wasn’t scared. So it doesn’t count.”

“You— weren’t?”

It takes her a few seconds to realize that he’s being serious. She almost wants to laugh at his face, but considering that he looks more than a little bothered by the whole thing, it’d probably be very insensitive.

“Of course not,” she says, gently. “I spent the whole time worrying about how my inability to fake fear would give us away and get us both a bullet in the head.”

He stares for a couple of seconds, looking pretty stunned. Then, he scoffs in disbelief. “A _gun_ to your head— and it doesn’t even make it to the list of things you need to worry about. Obviously.”

“ _Your_ gun to my head,” she corrects. “Big difference.”

This time, he smiles back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's [another fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15391950) set in the same verse, if you are interested!


	5. Taking the bullet (Flynn&Wyatt) (+ Garcy hint)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a fill for the "Taking the bullet" prompt on [my Bad Things Happen Bingo card on Tumblr](http://heytheredeann.tumblr.com/post/178609940689/taking-the-bullet-fill-for-the-bad-things-happen). Flogan BROTP, a bit of Garcy if you squint.

“I _swear_ , if you die on me—”

Flynn scoffs, which he supposes is a good sign. It doesn’t make their situation any less shitty, but at least he’s himself enough to be a pain in his ass – and the fact that this is a _good thing_ is a statement of its own.

“What, you’ll kill me?” he retorts, dragging the words a bit. Blood loss is a bitch, especially when you are stumbling through the woods trying to find the exact spot where you left your time machine. But he’s still talking, that’s something.

“ _Yes_ ,” Wyatt hisses, cursing internally because he usually has a good sense of direction, but the ambush confused things a bit for him, and he has a 6’4 feet tall pain in the ass leaning on him as a walking stick because he’s about to _die_ , and whenever he blinks he gets even _more_ confused because the trees seem to look all the _same_.

 _Let’s leave the Lifeboat in the woods, it’ll be fun. It’s a good hiding spot. It’ll work out great._ What a dumbass plan.

“I’m hurt,” Flynn teases. “I thought we were past that.”

Wyatt is pretty sure that he has already seen that tree. Like, 80% sure. But we’ve already established that after a while those damn trees _all_ look the same, so does it really _matter_ if he thinks he’s seen it before?

Shit, shit, _shit_.

He ends up taking a left turn out of instinct, hoping for the best. It’s not like he’s gambling with someone’s life or anything, right?

“Don’t bleed out on me and I’ll consider it,” he says, starting to feel pretty damn exhausted. Is the Lifeboat supposed to be that far into the woods? Did they walk that much before? Or did he just screw up and got them lost?

When the silence stretches out too long, Wyatt feels a rush of a panic, and he’s about to try and catch Flynn’s attention, suddenly hyperaware of just how _much_ he’s leaning on him right now, but fortunately he doesn’t need to.

“Aw, Wyatt, I didn’t know you _cared_ ,” Flynn comments. Wyatt draws a subtle sigh of relief, even if Flynn’s voice was barely above a whisper and the words came out way more slowly than they should have.

If he could just find the damn _spot_ —

“You just saved my ass,” he blurts out, quickly, because he is _not_ about to go all ‘It’s _obvious_ that I don’t you dead anymore’ on the guy as if he was on his deathbed. They are finding the damn time machine and they are both getting back, be it the last thing he does in his miserable life. “Just looking to return the favour.”

Flynn absently hums in what he supposes is an agreement, and he somehow manages to sway a bit, which forces Wyatt to stabilize them both. Not good, not good at _all_.

Dammit, are they supposed to go left or right now?

“Lucy will be pissed if you don’t come back whole,” he starts rambling, because if there’s someone that makes Flynn pull his head out of his ass that’s Lucy: maybe mentioning how upset this whole thing will make her could help dragging him out of the grave. Hopefully. There’s not really much else that he can try right now. “Hear me?” he insists. “She’ll be _furious_. So keep walking, alright?” Silence. Fuck. “Flynn?” _Great_ , just fucking— “Flynn!”

“ _Yeah_ ,” the answer finally comes, and Wyatt thinks he might laugh if the situation weren’t so unbelievably shitty. “Something about Lucy, heard you.”

Because of _course_ he only caught her name. At least he knows it _works_.

“I said Lucy won’t be happy if you don’t make it back,” he repeats. Maybe a good dose of pre-emptive guilt will do the trick.

Flynn makes a noise that probably wants to convey disagreement. “She’ll get over it.”

“No, she’ll skin me alive, so work with me here,” he says, as his eyes fall on— “Yes!” he yells, a grin spreading on his face. “Come on, we are almost there,” he says, his feet automatically moving faster as he walks around the fallen tree that he remembers very well seeing not too many feet away from where they landed with the Lifeboat.

He can’t believe he _found_ it.

“Next time, _you_ get shot,” Flynn announces, his voice hoarse as he practically drags his feet while attempting to keep up with the pace.

“Sounds fair,” Wyatt says, quickly. He kind of means it: he’s _not_ doing this again.

 


End file.
